


Singing Me Into An Eternal Slumber Is Enough

by Le_kunokimchi



Series: Prancing Around Insanity's Lot [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Blood and Gore, Heavy Angst, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Klaus finally loses it, M/M, Post-Canon, Sober Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/pseuds/Le_kunokimchi
Summary: His toes brushed across the cold of the sidewalk, vermillion liquid dying his clothes and paving his path. And he could only smile, softly, lightly, at the idea that he’d die on the dance floor again. But this time, the thought was comforting; he’d die surrounded by a melody he now holds dear rather than the senseless base of a club’s jams.And in that moment: humming, dancing, dying… He was ironically almost happy.But almost will never be enough.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Prancing Around Insanity's Lot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779967
Comments: 8
Kudos: 326





	Singing Me Into An Eternal Slumber Is Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna start out very dark and twisted and honestly doesn't get much better from there... Idk if you can consider it as having a happy ending. I guess it's up to your definition of a happy ending.  
> Disclaimer: This is not technically a songfic, but there is a theme throughout the chapter relating back to a song.

Bare feet flitted across the cool pavement in a hauntingly beautiful tango that only those who have handled the dead would understand. Lashes were wet as they caressed the lower lid, lips chapped and cracked as they were stretched thin into a lackadaisical smile, arms shaky but nonetheless graceful as they fluttered and twirled to their master's bidding. Emerald eyes shifted beneath their fleshy covers and lungs delicately expanded and collapsed with the rhythm their owner hummed. Toes flexed and pointed in retaliation to the languid movements, a path of bloody footprints left in their wake and a pleasantly aberrant melody drifting through the all too silent air.

The boy sang, softly, lightly; his voice cutting through the breezelessness like a feather may fall from a bird.  
"I'd like to say we gave it a try." He smiled wider, dancing around the peeking roots of a tree with a grace that could watch the world burn. "I'd like to blame it all on life."  
His lashes slowly lifted, sensing the presence of all-seeing eyes off to his right. Multiple presences. He huffed a short, and slightly maniacal, laugh; it seems he had an audience.

The ghastly beings didn't make a sound, they just hovered around the tree; there was an uneasy tension in the atmosphere, amid the smell of blood and evening dew, that seemed to warn them in volumes to not disturb the prancing figure before them. 

"Maybe we just weren't right," the medium halted midstride, then flippantly threw his head back with a grin, "But that's a lie, that's a lie."

Orange cylinders cut through the looming shadows, bathing the boy in a warm glow as he gripped the trunk with one hand and spun around it. "And we can deny it as much as we want," he turned to the nearest ghost, a lady with intestines pooling at her feet, and winked, "But in time our feelings will show."

He let go of the tree and sashayed forward, "'Cause sooner or later," he reached towards the sky and closed his eyes once again to relish in the light of the setting sun, "We'll wonder why we gave up." Backward he fell, landing onto lush grass with a loud squelch as crimson liquid stained his curls and painted the back of his shirt. He shivered in sickening delight. "The truth is everyone knows."

He didn't know it, or perhaps he just didn't care, but another being joined the crowd of front-row-seaters to his little performance.

The boy continued his serenade; ignoring the pressure slowly building within his cranium and the sudden dampness condensing in the corner of his eyes. "Almost, almost is never enough." 

The onlooker frowned at the heartbroken look in his brother's eyes despite the smile on his face.  
"So close to being in love," the teen laughed bitterly, taking a deep breath before continuing, "If I would have known that you wanted me, the way I wanted you..."  
His lip quivered, tears trickling down his cheeks as held his eyes shut for a few moments before resuming his song. "Then maybe we wouldn't be two worlds apart," he heard a distant gasp as he threw his bloodied hands and feet up into the air, "But right here in each other's arms."

He heard footsteps approach him, but his grin just grew as the edges of his vision began to darken.  
"K-Klaus?" a voice might have called out, the boy wasn't quite sure; his head felt heavy, but his chest was heavier.  
"Here we almost, we almost knew what love was," the medium said, the lyric coming out in short breaths and sounding more like an observation than a song. His glassy eyes centered on an individual leaning over him, fear on their pale and shaken face as they called his name and attempted to lift his body.  
The boy felt something wet splatter upon his neck, was the person crying? He almost wanted to laugh; who cries over him? Klaus Hargreeves: the disappointment, the useless junkie, the cowardly soldier, the weakest sibling, the burden... the burden to not just his family but to anyone that has ever thought that they could rely on him. Nobody cries over him. He wanted to push away the sobbing individual that was now running with him in his arms, he wanted to say, 'Leave me, let me die' but the red was too much and the words too thick on his tongue. He was almost there, don't help him now! So close... so close... Almost dead but still currently dying, he's almost gone, almost to Dave. Let him die, he's so close now; he can feel the world slipping into monochrome shades, can feel the velvety dirt of the little girl's bike trail. He can't hear anything, his eyes have shut, the lazy smile on his face slowly falls slack. Almost there, just a few more seconds. So close... so very close...  
But almost is never enough.

_______________________________________________________________

"I don't know if I can summon him..."

"What do you mean you don't know? That's literally one of the only useful things about your powers!" Luther had shouted, the fist slamming onto the table causing Klaus to flinch as bad memories of angering his stronger brother resurfaced.

"I mean I don't know!" he replied hesitantly, "I can't assure anything, it has been a really long time since I've summoned someone and-"  
"You can't or you won't?" Allison questioned, crossing her arms.  
"W-What?"  
"Well didn't you say that you have to be sober to use your powers? Is that why you don't know if you can summon him? Because you aren't sober?"  
Klaus frowned. "I've been sober for months... Why would you even think that?" His eyes scanned the room, seeing similar expressions on each one of his siblings' faces. Finally, his gaze settled on Ben: his partner in crime, his emotional support, his best friend, his other half. Ben's expression was not one of pure accusation and disappointment like the rest of his siblings, but there was a tinge of doubt in his eyes and a demanding quality to his squint that made Klaus realize he was on his own for this one.

"I'm not on drugs," he said blandly. His distant eyes settled on Luther, "I just didn't care enough to practice my abilities in the last timeline."  
"I thought you said you summoned Dad?" Vanya asked softly, her voice no more than a squeak compared to his other fuming siblings. He and Ben shared a look, Klaus practically pleading for some form of help from his brother, but Six just raised his eyebrows, as if he were saying, 'I told you that you shouldn't have lied about it'. 

Four gulped and bleakly muttered, "I did, but it was... uh, by accident."  
"You've got to be kidding me-"  
"Guys, just let it go," Ben finally jumped in, appearing exasperated with the whole situation, "He's been trying to summon Dave for weeks and still hasn't so maybe... maybe he just... he just can't do it."  
Although it was said to get his siblings to lay off, the words stung a place Klaus didn't even know could be hurt. He always saw Ben as his biggest support, his rock; always there to keep him going and to help him up when he crashes and burns. But now... his brother sounded hopeless, harsh words with possibly good intentions that picked up Klaus's little amount of confidence and squashed it under his foot. He couldn't stand to be a disappointment to Ben, not Ben... He wanted to make his brother proud, make him believe he was just as good as Ben always said he was. But now with the bitter realization that he has failed the only person who has had faith in him since day one, the pain was unbearable. But what's ironic about it all, is that Ben is completely right: he couldn't summon Dave, why would he be able to summon some criminal he has never met before? 

He was almost better than his past self... almost. But now, unlike the previous timeline, he has disappointed Ben.  
Once a disappointment, always a disappointment. Almost is never enough. 

_____________________________________________________________

He’s not really sure about when he found himself wandering around outside before plopping down next to a tree. And he’s not really sure when the dull pain in his chest began to blossom to a thrum within his head. But he is sure of the exact moment when the tears began to slip down his cheeks; he was a failure. A screw-up. A lost cause. A burden. Absolutely and positively useless. 

He had one power and couldn’t even use it, he just had the side effects of his abilities: the screaming miserable phantoms that followed him day and night, both physically and psychologically, both in his dreams and when he was fully awake. He couldn’t do anything right. Thank God, that adorable little bitch, for allowing Ben to live in this timeline because Klaus wouldn't even be able to provide him with a good afterlife either, huh? He wouldn’t be able to make him corporeal, he wouldn’t be able to make his siblings believe that their beloved dead brother was really there in the same room as them, he wouldn’ be able to do shit.  
He would fuck up Ben’s happiness, again. 

He’s not really sure if messing up Ben’s real life is any better. What was it like for Ben? To always stick up and believe in his good-for-nothing brother time and time again with nothing to show for it? It had to be draining, he knew it made Ben bitter with hopelessness for a long time when he was still dead.

He’s disappointed Ben too many times. He has disappointed his family a plethora of times. And now, he was disappointing himself and… Dave.  
He wants Dave, he misses Dave. Dave was probably the only person in the entire world that believed he wasn’t a useless junkie; even Ben, as much as he tried to be subtle about it, questioned more than a few times why he even stuck around.

He missed the days in the hot, damp jungle, trudging through brush and vines, listening to Dave hum an off-key tune; his platoon buddies would make jokes saying that Dave sounded like a dying animal, and Dave would just smile goofily and make a remark that they couldn’t do any better. And then the whole platoon would be humming some strangled sounding melody quietly as they hiked through waist-deep jungle sludge, all making the best of their crappy circumstances, all poking fun at each other's random quirks without any malice behind their words. It was a nice time, a rare moment where Klaus wondered why he would ever want to go home when he had a family right here in Vietnam. And Klaus had a place within their ranks, he felt like he belonged; sure, he was still an attention seeker, even in Vietnam, but the title was not given as an insult. He’d pull off crazy stunts when ransacking a village or run into the battlefield guns a-blazing. He’d jump up on his log at their small campfires and tell tales of superhero children fighting zombies on the Eiffel Tower and little boys who could see and speak to dead or summon giant tentacle monsters from their stomach. He retold of his wildest adventures and everyone would sit and listen with a smile because even if they were just stories, his enthusiasm made them all want to believe it was true.  
And he was happy. And he was cared for. And he was respected. And he was appreciated.  
And now, he’s sad. He’s very sad. War should not be the place to make best buddies; he knows this now. War should not be the place to feel comfortable and loved; he knew this beforehand. War should not be the place to fall in love; if only his stupid heart cared.

The off-kilter tune Dave hummed resurfaced to Klaus’s mind; it was messy and probably wrong and most likely sounded nothing like the original song, but Klaus thought it was beautiful. It was music to his ears. And he loved it, because he loved the man who formed the notes. And the tune was bittersweet as it played on repeat through his head because remembering means reminiscing and reminiscing means realizing that it’ll never happen again. And then there’s just pain, a deep grieving wound that bounces within his skull and makes his hands wipe furiously at the tears dripping down his cheeks.  
Dave. Sweet, gentle, mannered, and beautiful Dave. He’d give anything to have had switched places with him. Dave was a brilliant light that illuminated the darkest of tunnels, a warm glow that melted the coldest of hearts, a vibrant candle that burned out too fast. He had so much to give to the world, so much that Klaus could not.  
All Klaus has of Dave are his dog tags now… his dog tags and a perfectly imperfect melody. And as Klaus hummed it, feeling his heart sad but swelling with love from the memories, he could hear a buzz in his ears and feel a tingle in his fingertips. He continued, noticing that the tune sounded kind of familiar like a more recent song that existed far after ‘Nam… and as he tried to rake through his mental file of song titles, he didn’t realize that he had stopped singing. But he could still hear the hums, distantly, as if they were slowly coming closer to his side of reality. 

The tune became louder and Klaus’s lips pursed tightly in an attempt to make himself stop, unaware that he was not the one humming or the only presence now at the tree.  
The song finally clicks in place and just as Klaus is about to shout in triumph, he hears someone clear their throat. The boy jumps and glances off to the right; his mouth goes dry immediately, the color drains from his face.

“No…” Klaus croaked, fighting back his tears, “This is a hallucination, right? You’re n-not… You... “  
Deep down, he knows that his eyes aren’t deceiving him; he knows that the bloodied hole in his chest and eyes of warm pools of honey couldn’t be created so vividly from just his imagination.  
The soldier appears puzzled but smiles anyways. “You can see me, huh? That’s quite the ability you got there…” he says, his gaze softening, “I had um- a buddy who used to tell stories about kids like you.”  
At that, Klaus feels the relief slowly dissipate. The air leaves his lungs. His thoughts come to an abrupt halt.  
“Do you…” The German boy began, his voice shaky and hesitant, “Do you know who I am?”  
The man frowned this time, his brow scrunched up in concentration for a moment before giving him a look of almost pity. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall seeing your face before.”

And his worst fears were confirmed. Dave didn’t recognize him. Of course he didn’t. What was he expecting? He’s stuck back in his thirteen-year-old body; Dave knew a man, a soldier, a partier, not the broken little boy with tear stains on his cheeks sitting before him.  
And it’s so horrible and heartbreaking and fucked up that it’s funny. It’s funny how obvious it is that this was never going to work, that it was never going to be the loving reunion he wanted so desperately for it to be. Three weeks… Three weeks! And it never ONCE, occurred to him that Dave wouldn’t know who he was.  
It’s ironic that he thought being able to summon Dave would be a sign to keep trying, keep living, keep believing; seeing Dave would make him happy. But right here, at this exact moment, Klaus wished he never summoned him at all. He wished he didn’t know that the one person he loved to the moon and back, the one person who made him feel appreciated and valued and comforted and loved… is truly out of his grasp now. Did he ever get to tell Dave that he loved him?  
The boy huffed a laugh, earning a look of discomfort from the soldier as he waited for a reply.  
“It’s alright. Sorry to call you out here, enjoy the afterlife; I’ve heard it’s great this time of year.” And then there was a flash of blue and Dave was gone; why didn’t he try to tell Dave it was him? Why didn’t he ask Dave if that buddy he referred to was actually someone very dear to his heart? Why didn’t he ever tell Dave that he loved him? He didn’t do a lot of things… And he laughed.  
He laughed hysterically, a crazed look in his eyes and a hand gripping his hair so tight that his scalp stung. The commotion seemed to attract more attention, more wandering spirits arriving at the sound of the manicical guffaws from the one person who could see them.  
They began their crowding, their speaking, their pleading… And the boy chortled ever louder, eyes watering in mirthlessness.  
This spurred the phantoms on, their crying and shouting rising in volume to desperately be heard over the dry cackles that erupted uncontrollably from Klaus now. 

“klaus klaus klaus-”  
He gave a lip-splitting grin, standing up in his mad haze just to cover his ears right in front of all of them. “La la la, not listening~”  
“Klaus Klaus Klaus-”  
“Hm, hmm, hmmmm~”  
“KLAUS KLAUS KLAUS-”  
“Isn’t it great?” Klaus whirled towards a man with half of his skull missing and brain matter sprinkling his clothes, “The song. His song.”  
The ghost screamed in rage, others following suit.  
“It sounds like ‘Almost Is Never Enough’… Well I mean, you wouldn’t know how it goes since you’re dead.”  
The spirits roared at the reminder, reaching for the boy high off of brokenness; it took them a few incorporeal swipes before they began to shimmer a light blue.  
“It fits so perfectly… so perfect… Like Dave had time-traveling powers just like Five! Perfect, perfect, perfect-”  
He didn’t get a chance to finish as the ghosts began to claw and grab and yank; he was being restrained by all the hands trying to get a piece of his flesh.  
And normally, Four would be screaming, crying, kicking, thrashing, but this time he just howled hysterically as if they were tickling him.  
But then the one ghost from earlier reached for the dog tags around his neck and something, in that split-second of realization, snapped within Klaus.  
The ghost let out a pained shriek as it went scrambling backward, clutching its hand in bewilderment at the noticeable bite marks that now resided there.  
Klaus licked his lips darkly, the other spirits dropping him quickly and staring at the other in apprehension.  
There was a sickening crack as the boy hit the ground, his skull coming in contact with a rugged rock that rested beside a tree root. Something warm began oozing onto the back of his scalp, his curly locks becoming matted and sticky.  
And although he was slightly dazed, Four slowly got to his feet, swaying slightly, before meeting the injured ghost’s eyes.  
“It’s so funny, John Doe, so fucking funny… And you know what’s funnier? This is similar to how I died last time too,” he grinned, something twisted and sickening, his eyes hazy yet holding a disconcerting glow. “You almost had my precious dog tags, ya know... But almost is never enough.”  
Four released an unsettling chuckle before taking a step closer towards the ghost. “Care to join me for a dance?”  
The phantom fumed and lunged towards the boy but with a single swipe of Klaus’s hand, there was a burst of blue light and then the spirits were gone.  
“Such a shame…” Four tsked, twirling softly, a rhythm beginning to play itself in his head.  
He closed his eyes and began to hum, a dizzying ballroom dance taking over his feet.

His toes brushed across the cold of the sidewalk, vermillion liquid dying his clothes and paving his path. And he could only smile, softly, lightly, at the idea that he’d die on the dance floor again. But this time, the thought was comforting; he’d die surrounded by a melody he now holds dear rather than the senseless base of a club’s jams.  
And in that moment: humming, dancing, dying… He was ironically almost happy.

But almost will never be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I did warn you, it was dark.  
> "Almost Is Never Enough" by Ariana Grande ft. Nathan Sykes


End file.
